The Stargate Initiative: REVISED EDITION
by Sciencefictionsquirrel
Summary: An AU stargate story where Ernest arrives at a Heliopolis that still has a functional DHD and manages to stay in touch with the team on Earth. This is the story of how a small event forever changes the fates of worlds and galaxies.
1. Prologue & Chapter 1

A/N: Well, here it is, people, at long last being brought to FFN. The beginning of the revised version of the Stargate Initiative. Differences from the original are relatively minor at first, dates clarified and relative passages of time have been streamlined, certain elements of the previous version that made less sense without clarification have been clarified or altered, minor technical details altered, and typos and grammar errors are now corrected. I've only got a few chapters done so far, and I will be posting those over here every couple of days until I get caught up. I should be over the hump on the biggest hold-up in the writing, and should be able to keep up a revised chapter about once a month or so. No promises, but I'll try.

Prologue

 _The smallest of changes can bring about the biggest differences. A single life, or even the presence of one small alteration, could bring about great changes. In one universe, their presence or absence might seem innocuous at first, but over time could bring about catastrophic changes or magnificent progress. Here, in one universe, the impact of two small objects in the grand cosmic scale would bring about life-changing events for the inhabitants of several galaxies. Here now is the universe changed by an engineer and a radio …_

PB2-908/ES-1 "Heliopolis"- 9,131 B.C.E.

The castle was bustling with various amounts of movement as the construction teams moved with their drones and other tools putting the finishing touches on the location. Oberon, however, was merely standing still, though he was accomplishing more than any of the foremen and their drones. The jutting, clamp-like device was clinging firmly to his head and humming with power, and with a simple thought, he sent several electrical impulses through the machine's wireless interface into the pedestal standing behind him.

Rising to the top of the castle, the new column stood firm and unmoving. Almost a meter in diameter and reinforced with a trinium core, this column was the same as hundreds of others being placed within the castle. He grinned as he deactivated the repository and admired his work. This would be his greatest achievement yet, a location for his people and other advanced races to meet. Its legacy would long outlive him and had been a project he had long worked for ever since he had arrived. He began to circle around the newly-constructed pillar and inspected it for flaws he knew would not be there. His work was perfect, but the inspection kept his mind off the past. Yet he began to remember her once more, despite his best efforts to forget. The memory made his grin disappear as he stretched, shaking his muscles loose after standing still for hours.

It had been more than five years now since he had returned from Atlantis. The war against the vile Wraith was going poorly when he had departed; the Middle Reach had fallen to an assault, and the beasts were coming closer and closer to Atlantis. Many of his kind had started the process of Ascension as the conflict became more and more hopeless.

He grimaced, despite his best efforts to push the sadness aside. He remembered Lirian's smiling face, and the joy he felt when he was with her. Her sunset-colored hair always looked beautiful, especially on the sunny days in their small house. The war seemed so far away and out of mind when he was with her. His engineering work mainly focused on building up planetary infrastructure and so he remained far from the front lines. Still, the two had prepared to ascend and live forever, far beyond any conflict or petty problem the galaxies might offer.

Then the Wraith had taken her on a surprise attack on the inner colonies. While on one of the colony's sister worlds, the Wraith had launched a rapid assault on several inner worlds within the Lantean zone of control. Causing as much damage as possible and taking as many poor souls as they could, the Wraith had torched several of the oldest colonies of his people and fled before the mighty host of the Lantean fleets could arrive and repel them, taking hundreds of thousands, including his beloved.

He had nothing once she was taken; the projects of the Pegasus galaxy lost all meaning and interest to him. Every day, the Wraith made more and more gains, and he loathed to see his work either destroyed or used by his foe. Without Lirian, ascension lost any meaning and joy if he could not be with her. Thus, when several of his compatriots decided to return to Avalon, to flee Pegasus while they could, he opted to return with them. Perhaps the disease had burned itself out and they could rebuild.

Alas, it was not to be. The sickness had taken a greater toll than originally thought when his ancestors departed to Pegasus. His people were still powerful, yet only a shadow of what they once were. Terra and her children were still primitive, and nowhere near to being a potential superpower. Some who came back decided to live amongst them anyway, to breed and pass down a legacy through their genes, others had opted to ascend and live beyond the limitations of the mortal world. Still others continued on, exploring the galaxy, seeding Astria Porta, and building new outposts. In time, they had met several other advanced races in the galaxy and it was decided to create a grand location for all four groups to meet.

As he placed his hand on the pillar's smooth stone, Oberon remembered his surprise when he had been given control of the project. The design he had been given was that of an ancient citadel, but the actual construction and fabrication would fall to him. The engineer who was originally working on the project wanted to use simple stones to maintain the authentic look of the place and over time let it fall to the natural elements should it go into disuse. Once Oberon arrived, the engineer was delighted to have someone else who could take over and had later ascended. However, Oberon would not let this place fall. Though alliances and political machinations might render this location moot, the building would still stand. This grand repository and meeting hall would be his mark left on the galaxy; before he died, he wanted to leave something meaningful behind. Slowly, he reworked many parts of the original design, introducing small bits of trinium reinforcing, improved weather-resistance technologies were installed, the cliff face was braced against the erosion of the nearby sea, and the electronic systems were given multiple redundancies. Eventually, the outpost could even be given a city-ship variant shield, if the need for the now-reduced supply of Potentia in Pegasus were to wane or if an alternative could be found. The stone may wither over time, but the location would stand for thousands, if not hundreds of thousands of years. A place of peace and knowledge, it would be his small legacy to leave behind…

Chapter 1

United States, 1945

"Doorway to Heaven." That was the translation of the name of the massive device in front of Ernest Littlefield. The ring-shaped device was being rotated to lock onto the destination they'd found while he himself was being suited up in standard diving dress with a slight modification. In addition to a wired communications system, the diving helmet had been modified with a radio transceiver taken from the classified Joan-Eleanor system used to communicate with agents in the field in Europe. The radio unit had been altered so that he could hit the push-to-talk button with his chin and then speak. He'd been surprised by this; even the Navy didn't have access to wireless systems for their suits. He suspected that his father-in-law-to-be had pulled some strings with his friends in the OSS to get the experimental unit. Before he had prepared to suit up, he remembered what Professor Langford said: "I'm not worried about what's beyond that doorway, I'm worried about the hell my little girl will raise if I don't bring her fiancé home"

He was still smiling at the comment as they fitted the helmet over his head, carefully moving several wires and an antenna to ensure the radio was working, while providing room for the air hose to pump oxygen into the helmet. As the last seal was tightened, he stood. The Doorway had been activated, and he slowly walked up the ramp. Pressing the "transmit" button on the radio, he began to speak. "This is Doctor Ernest Littlefield. Can you hear me?" he asked, then released the button.

"We're receiving, Doctor Littlefield. Proceed." the voice of Paul Langford said.

"Proceeding." Ernest said as he walked up to the Doorway. "I am entering it now." he said as he began to step through the gate, talk button depressed. When he completed stepping through the gate, he found himself in a completely different chamber. "Professor Langford, I've arrived in some sort of chamber. No evidence of being underwater like we thought it might be." he said.

Suddenly, the light behind him vanished; looking back, the rippling surface was gone, to be replaced only by the sight of the empty ring. Looking further, he saw the severed remains of his air hose. Panic gripped at him as he held his breath, unaware of if there were any toxins in the air. After several excruciating minutes, his lungs burned and he was forced to take a deep gulp of air. Taking several more, he was surprised to find that the air that was coming in through the severed hose was quite breathable.

Taking several steps forward, the place he was in felt very similar to the conditions of the warehouse. His weighted boots clanged heavily as he stepped forward on the raised dais that held the gate. Grunting, he unlatched the heavy boots and left them in front of the Doorway. Disconnecting the useless hose, he left the porthole in the back of his helmet open to let the fresh air in.

With that, he began to explore the immediate area. He was in some medium sized chamber, the Doorway was held up on a dais, and about twenty feet away was a curious-looking pedestal. Walking over, Ernest saw that it had a dull red center dome, and a variety of tabs with intricate symbols. Reaching down, he pressed one the symbols at random and was surprised to see it light up, and through the din of his helmet, he could hear a loud hum. Pressing several more, he was curious about their illumination. He soon found, though, that he could only illuminate seven at a time. Pressing further, he placed his hand on the red center. It began to glow for a brief moment as a whirling sound filled the air, but stopped a moment later. The glowing dome dimmed at the same time. Pressing another random set of seven, he tried again, and was met by the dull whirl and glow that ended in less than a second.

Looking to his left, he saw several open windows. Walking over, he looked out to see a vast sea, and that his location was precariously perched over a steep cliff. He heard the waves crash against the cliff face with a thunderous roar as the sun made the water sparkle. The sun was hanging high above the sea, which was strange since he had departed in the early evening back in the warehouse.

"Where the hell am I?" Ernest asked himself as he rested on his elbows looking out over the sea. He had decided to remain in the room for a while in case the professor tried to contact him.

Losing himself in his thoughts, Ernest began to think of Catherine; their wedding was scheduled for three months from now. He wanted nothing more than to be back wherever she was and hold her. Would he ever get back? Could the professor find him? A small sense of fear and loss began to creep into the back of his head, but he quickly shook his head as best he could with several pounds of brass restricting his finer neck movements. Looking behind, he noticed several sets of different glyphs on the wall. Some looked like a language he had never seen before, while others looked strangely like Egyptian hieroglyphs. Was he somewhere in the Mediterranean, perhaps? Some kind of lost island in the seas by Egypt? Walking over to the wall, he placed a hand over the symbols and squinted. Near the top were various hieroglyphic symbols and other texts that looked to be a derivative of the Egyptian language, yet behind the symbols, seeming as though someone had attempted to etch them out were another, more faded set of symbols. Looking down, Ernest saw the Egyptian text used less and less and the older text appeared more and more. Strangely, the flow of the older symbols seemed to look more like the symbols on the pedestal and Doorway rather than the hieroglyphics.

"That's weird," he thought as he looked at the two. The presence of two different language sets would seem to imply that one group had originally inhabited the area, before another group moved in, yet the older texts didn't resemble any forms of writing that would predate the Egyptians. Hell, from what he remembered of the Professor's lectures, only the Mesopotamians had beaten the Egyptians to some kind of written language, and this text didn't look anything like cuneiform. Perhaps it was a derivative of an ancient form of Minoan hieroglyphs; it would make sense, especially if he was in the Mediterranean.

Lost in thought, Ernest wasn't paying attention to the rest of the room. When the doorway began to activate once more, he didn't notice. After the third chevron on the gate was locked, he suddenly woke up to his surroundings as he suddenly heard a faint whirl, similar to the sound when he pressed the tabs on the strange pedestal, except the sound continued for far longer. Looking to the Doorway, he saw the arrows along the outside slowly beginning to light up. One by one, they began to glow orange and the whirling sounds continued. He also heard the strange lighting sounds emanating from the pedestal. Running over, he saw several of the tabs beginning to light up on their own. Three were already activated, and soon a fourth followed, then a fifth, then a sixth, and then the final one illuminated. The pedestal's core began to glow a bright red.A loud noise, that sounded like a large lock being unlocked, echoed through the room. Looking up at the ring, Ernest heard a loud kawoosh and saw a bright blue wave of some kind of energy extend outward from the device just like it had when it was activated in the warehouse. He noticed that the boots he had left on the dais were obliterated by the vortex of energy as it slowly retreated and formed the gently-rippling pool of energy and light in the center of the ring. After several seconds, the radio in Ernest's helmet began to crackle to life.

"Hello? Hello?! Ernest, it's Paul. Are you there?"

Pressing his chin to the strap, Ernest replied as a huge surge of relief welled within his body. "Paul, it's Ernest! I'm here!"

"Ernest, it's good to hear you. Now, we have no idea how long this will stay open. I recommend that you return as soon as possible." his future father-in-law responded with a small note of relief in his voice.

Looking at the smoldering remains of his boots in front of the ring, Ernest eyed the pool in the center with suspicion. "We don't know if that's possible, Professor. This thing has a lot of unknowns and dangers. I left my boots in front of it, and the waveform that emerged when we dialed the Doorway disintegrated them. For all we know, the passage only works in one direction at a time. Give me a moment; there is plenty of rubble here. I'm going to throw a piece back through the doorway. Let me know if it arrives, and I'll come back through if it does." Ernest said. He walked over to a small pile of broken stones and chipped masonry and grabbed one of the larger pieces, then walked toward the Doorway.

"Throwing it through … now." he said, and let the rock fly. It vanished into the pool of light with a ripple. After several seconds, the radio crackled once more.

"Ernest, nothing came through." said the professor, a slight tone of disappointment in his voice.

"Then transit isn't possible in both directions. I'm stranded here." Lifting his chin so the radio wouldn't transmit, he looked at the ring he could not enter. "Oh, god … I'm stranded here." he muttered quietly to himself.

"For the time being. Try to see if there's any way to activate it from your side after it closes." Professor Langford said quickly in a reassuring tone. "We'll attempt to send supplies through soon. We'll keep the radio apparatus here and will contact you regularly."

"What are you going to tell Catherine?"

"I don't know, Ernest. I'll tell her what I can."

"Thank you, Professor."

"Ernest, I swear to god we're going to get you home, son. I'm not leaving my daughter's fiancé to die in some rat hole in the middle of nowhere. Do you need anything apart from the basics? The men are already getting ready to send a crate through."

"Yes .. Send a couple more radios in case this one breaks. Also, I could really use some pants and a shirt; walking around in this diving suit is going to get mighty uncomfortable after a few days."

Several minutes passed, and then a medium-sized crate came through on a small dolly. Running up to the dais, Ernest grabbed the crate and wheeled it down the steps of the dais. As he pulled, the professor's voice once again filled his helmet.

"The generators are about to run out of fuel over here; we'll try and contact you in a day or two, three at most. Ernest, have you seen anything that might help you get back?"

"Yes; there's some strange pedestal near the gate. It has the same symbols as the gate, and has tabs that light up whenever you press them. It might just be some kind of announcement screen, but it might be my best chance." he said.

"All right, sounds good. I'll make sure the techs keep everyone away from the gate in case you call in so no one gets hit by the vortex. We'll check in soon, Ernest … Good luck."

With that, the Professor's voice cut out as the Doorway turned off. Alone once more, Ernest opened the crate and took out two backpack radios, several tins of rations and water, and a fresh uniform. Quickly changing into the lighter fatigues, Ernest Littlefield stepped over to the pedestal. He rubbed his hands together, and then began to press the symbols.

"Just like a telephone number." he muttered to himself as he completed a set of seven symbols and pressed the red center. The tabs emitted their loud sound as he pressed each one. After he completed the set, he placed his hand on the red core, and heard the faint whirl start up, only to die. Cursing, he input another set of seven. "Let's see if I can dial home..."

For nearly a week, Ernest tried hundreds of different combinations, too obsessed with the prospect of returning to even leave the chamber, but to no avail; none formed a connection. Frustration was beginning to well within him as he furiously jabbed in another set of seven symbols. When he pressed the red crystal, he expected the small whirl and silence that had greeted him so many times before. He was surprised instead when the crystal glowed a fierce red and a loud kawoosh emanated from the gate, creating the cool blue portal.

Jumping with joy, Ernest ran over to his helmet; it was time to radio the professor the good news. "Professor! Professor! … Paul, it worked; I'm coming home!" he yelled into the microphone as he put the helmet on. He began to sprint to the gate, eager to throw himself through and be back home. Just as he began to climb up the dais, a thought crossed his mind that forced him to slow down, and then stop just inches from the shimmering hadn't the professor radioed back? Why hadn't anyone radioed back? The past four times the base radioed him, it was the professor who responded, or at least a radio tech that was monitoring the gate 24/7, according to Paul's last transmission, so that Ernest could talk to someone if he figured out the sequence. But no one was talking to him.

Tentatively, he pressed the chin strap again. "Hello? Hello? Can anyone hear me?" He called, but received no answer.

Swearing, he unfastened his helmet and went to one of the backup radios that had been sent. Turning a couple of knobs and checking the power, both of which were fine, he tried again. "Hello? Hello? Base? This is Doctor Ernest Littlefield. Do you copy?" he called into the speaker, but got only static.

Now, he was faced with a dilemma. The base wasn't responding, but the Doorway was open. Maybe there was an outage at the base and they couldn't respond. Perhaps the tech had to take a head break. The possibilities were endless, yet Ernest's gut told him that there was something more. A conversation he'd had with the professor the day before he walked through the Doorway.

"If it's some kind of lock, why thirty-nine symbols? Why not just six?" Professor Langford asked.

"They're not combinations; they're destinations! And we just found one!" Ernest replied.

Maybe this wasn't the destination to the Doorway at the warehouse at all. Maybe this was a third Doorway, one that was somewhere else entirely.

He went over to crate, pulled out a pad and pencil, and wrote the combination down; no sense in losing it. For the next half-hour, Ernest continued to use the radio, but to no avail. All three were working, but no one was responding. After slightly over a half-hour or so by his reckoning, the Doorway shut down on its own.

Sighing, Ernest leaned against the wall and slowly slid down, covering his face with his hands. Freedom … it had been so close, but he just didn't want to chance it. He'd have to ask the professor about it when he dialed in tomorrow for their scheduled resupply. Standing up, Ernest walked over to the window. For the past week, the nights had been decidedly overcast, but now it looked like the clouds were letting up for the evening. At least, he could try to approximate his location with astronomy, though his skills were a bit rusty from his boy scout days.

Looking up into the clear night sky filled him with relief and wonder, the clear air felt good to his lungs, and the stars shone like beacons that could help him find his way home. Grasping the sides of the window hole, he looked out to try and get his bearings. It took him a moment to adjust to the cool air in his face, but eventually he was able to see more clearly as his eyes adjusted to the wind and darkness as further, he felt a familiar warning of dread begin to curl up in his stomach… Where the hell was Polaris? Hell, he shouldn't even see the South Star. Where were the Dippers? Sirius? Scorpio? Orion? He could find none of the familiar constellations or stars, and while he thought he might have been on the other side of the world, he saw absolutely no familiar locations in the night sky, none at all. Searching more, he realized something even more grave: He couldn't find the moon.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2:

"…Ernest, you want to say that again?"

"Professor, I know it sounds crazy, bu… but I don't think I'm on Earth anymore."

"Son, I know you've been stuck there for a week now, and things must be getting kind of stir crazy, but I need you to hold onto it, if not for me, then for Catherine."

"I know what I'm saying!" Ernest snapped. Immediately regretting that, he took a deep breath, and then continued, "Look, I've been gone for a week now; it was a full moon when I left. The new moon should still be another week away. The constellations not being right, the strange languages, my earlier connection, it's all too much evidence. Either I'm on a strange, undiscovered island on Earth, which I doubt since there's, nothing in the sky to indicate so, or this thing is some kind of gateway to other worlds."

There was a pregnant pause before someone spoke up. "Ernest… you realize what you're saying … what it could mean, if it's even possible, I mean…"

"Look, Professor, I described the seven symbols I dialed. Why don't you try dialing it; maybe I was wrong, and it does connect here."

"We looked, and we only have six of those symbols on our end; the last one isn't on our ring."

"I noticed that, too, when I looked at the pedestal here; the last symbol of the code you sent me here with wasn't on it. The inverted V with the circle above it … Maybe … Maybe that symbol is unique for each ring, an identifying marker or something. Try the coordinates I gave you with that in mind, and it might work. Professor, if that's the case, if there is some kind of connection … then this thing is way bigger than we thought…"

-

It took Paul a week of wrangling around, but he managed to get some improved generators for the bunker. He was lucky that Roosevelt was keeping his team supplied with important gear, even with the war in Europe winding down. He was thankful that the President was as curious about the ring as he was, though that didn't stop some of the corpsmen from grumbling about having to guard it.

In addition, he managed to acquire a small cart, and, more importantly, a gun camera and some wiring. They rigged the camera to the cart, with a motor and radio-operated pivot. Some more work, and they rigged up a transmitter for the video feed so that they could get the footage in real time. They had a lot of spare parts from Aphrodite to work with to make the pivot, which was a hell of a lot easier than making a plane fly on its own.

They dialed the coordinates Ernest sent, and Paul was surprised to see that the gate made the connection. The increasingly familiar kawoosh sound echoed through the chamber as the techs wheeled the small cart forward. Pushing it with a stick, it made its way through the Doorway slowly. Walking over to a TV screen, Paul looked at the camera feed. The cart was on top of a small dais, much like the one Ernest described where he was, in some kind of field, with trees in the distance. The tech pressed some buttons, and the camera panned left and right. The grainy, black-and-white footage didn't show too much, but he did notice a small pedestal near the gate. However, this most definitely was not the closed room that Ernest had said he was in.

My god, Paul thought as he stood up and crossed his arms. "Maybe Ernest was right; we'll need to send a new diving suit through to him so he can test conditions and-"

"Sir … I've got movement." the tech said, panning the camera to the right.

Squinting at the screen, Paul saw a humanoid figure move toward the cart. Ernest? he thought as the figure approached. Had he gone through after all?

Suddenly, the creature got a lot closer, and Paul let out a small gasp. It definitely was not Ernest; this figure stood at least several inches taller, but, more importantly, it was covered in some kind of chain mail armor and held a staff of some sort, but what truly stood out was the eagle-shaped helmet it wore, which made it seem even taller. At least, Paul thought it was a helmet; for all he knew, it was the creature's natural head.

The being took several steps closer and tilted its head slightly at the cart. The tech panned the camera slightly to get a better look. Suddenly, the being aimed its staff at the cart. The rounded rectangular tip had split open into four sections. It sparked with energy, and then a bolt shot out at the cart, cutting the feed.

"Turn it off … I SAID, TURN IT OFF!" Paul yelled at the techs that were frantically disconnecting cables from the device. The generators had long since been turned off, but the backup power needed disconnecting as well. After several seconds, they had unplugged everything and shut the gate off.

Taking several sharp breaths, Paul Langford looked around the room at the people there. He hastily gathered up the tapes and made his way out the door. He needed to see several very important people right away…

-

"Say again, professor?" Ernest asked as Paul filled him on the events that had transpired.

"We're sending more people through, Ernest. A week from now, April first. You… Ernest, you were right; this does seem to be a portal to other places, other worlds. The fact that our probe got destroyed by some energy-staff-wielding alien life form seems proof enough of that, aside from the observations you've made of your location."

"Bu… But we have no clue how we can get home, or even if we can get home at all; we've spent the last two weeks trying to figure out how to get me home! And now you want to strand more people here with me? What if we never get home?!"

"Son, this just became a whole lot bigger than we thought!" Paul said sharply, taking Ernest aback. "I'm sorry, I want to do everything I can to make sure you can get home and marry my little girl, but we've just confirmed that there are aliens out there, and they apparently like to shoot things with energy blasts! They probably aren't friendly, Ernest! We're way behind that kind of technology, and the President agrees. He's appropriating some more funds for our project and sending more personnel from the Signal Corps and other parts of the army to assist us. We're looking into bringing some more Egyptologists and linguistics experts to figure out what that text you mentioned is, though most of them are still contracted with the military trying to crack the rest of Jerry and Tojo's codes. But I'm confident we'll be able to get a few of them and send them through."

"Dear God … you're serious. This thing is really expanding, isn't it?"

"It is, Ernest. Listen, I trust you more than anyone else, and you've been there for almost three weeks now. I need you to start looking around the castle to see if there is anything that might be of use to us. I know you've cooped yourself up in that room, but now we need more information. We're sending you more stuff like flashlights and notepads to help you out. Listen, son, I know this isn't what you signed up for, but until we can get more eyes and ears out there, you're our best bet, and once people start arriving at your location, I'm putting you in charge of ES-1."

"Paul, I've never been in charge of anything before. I'm more than happy to look around and see what I can find, but actually ordering people around? I've never done that and … wait, ES-1?"

"Extra-solar Site One. We need a way to name these locations; it's part of our overall structure."

"Structure?"

"That's right, Ernest, structure. This little operation has officially stopped being a fanciful curiosity of the President and is now being incorporated into a greater command structure, all centered on operations involving the Doorway. We've already got two known offworld locations, and if there are more Doorways out there, you can bet we'll find more stuff out there, and if those aliens have ways of invading us, especially if they don't have these Doorways … Well, let me say, I'm pretty sure sneezing on them won't stop an invasion. It takes time to set up a whole new command, but we're working on it. In the meantime, Ernest, I'm counting on you to find us something we can use."

"I'll do my best, Professor. Also, I've been thinking, and we need a better name for the ring than 'Doorway to Heaven.' It's kind of cumbersome, after all. I've got an idea."

"Let's hear it, then."

"It's a gateway to the stars, right? Why not call it a Stargate?" Ernest said.

"I like the sound of that, Ernest. Stargate. I'll make sure to see that it become the official term." Paul said.

"How's Catherine doing?" Ernest asked, changing the subject.

Paul sighed. "I haven't been able to tell her the whole story, Ernest. When I let the higher-ups know we'd gotten it to work, they ordered me to cut the flow of information to anyone not directly involved, which is government bureaucrat talk for 'on the payroll and cleared.' Catherine's involvement was unofficial, so I couldn't tell her exactly what happened without getting treason charges. She knows you're going to be away for a while, related to the project. I'm working on getting her brought back in, but with this new discovery, the aliens out there and everything, it could get a lot harder and give us a few more miles of red tape to navigate before I can bring her back in. I'm not even allowed to pass messages to her because of the secrecy they're wrapping it up in."

Ernest sighed. "Goddamn it. I don't want to lose her, Paul. If she thinks I just left without warning, if you can't get any messages back to her for me ..."

"I'll do what I can to get her cleared, Ernest. I promise you that. I don't want her to lose out on a good man like you. I'm sure she'll understand, when we do get to tell her and when we get you back."

After that talk, several more crates of supplies were sent through before the gate disconnected. After arranging them off to the side, Ernest picked up a new flashlight, a large ball of yarn, and a notebook. Part of him had been curious about what might lay deeper within the castle, but he wanted to remain close in case a way home emerged. But now, with greater operations being planned …

Tying the yarn to the pedestal, Ernest raised his flashlight and began to climb up a staircase that he had noticed earlier. Making sure to leave a trail with the yarn, one end tied around the pedestal, Ernest slowly climbed the stairs to an upper part of the castle. After huffing and climbing several flights, he emerged into a room with several more around, he shined his light on the pedestals, and noticed that they had a similar style of writing to what he saw on the Stargate's pedestal and on the faded portions of the wall. The tops of these pedestals were covered in quite the layer of dust. Curious, he swept his hands over one of the pedestals and wiped away the grime, revealing more symbols and tabs. Walking over to another pedestal, he repeated the process, and the same for the third, fourth, and fifth. When he got to the sixth, however, something happened. As he swept his hand over the top of it, several of the tabs lit up with a faint hum. Startled, Ernest leaped back and glanced warily at the illuminated buttons.

They hummed with power, but did nothing else. Ernest's curiosity got the better of him and he went over to the pedestal once more and looked at the illuminated top. Three different buttons were lit up. Reaching out, he pressed the first one and was rewarded with a faint, yellow glow. Turning off his flashlight, he reached out and pressed the second button. Suddenly, the faint, yellow glow filled an area outside the room. Realizing that there were windows at the far end, he ran over and saw that the gate room was now lit up as well. Running back to the pedestal, he pressed the final button.A low hum began to fill the air around him, slowly building up steam as it became louder and louder. Then it began to quiet once more, the remaining pedestals in the room began to illuminate, lighted display screens coming to life. Some of the wall panels illuminated as well. While many were cracked and seemed to struggle to maintain themselves, for Ernest, this was beyond belief, unlike anything he had seen before, like something out of a pulp science fiction magazine. Colored panels … some kind of haptic interface … advanced electronic lighting … it was simply amazing!

Looking down the staircase, he saw that the way down was illuminated as well. With an energy he hadn't had since he first stepped through the gate, Ernest Littlefield raced down the spiral staircase and began to explore the castle with gusto…


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

The last month had been hard for Catherine. Her father had come home to their off-base quarters one day without Ernest, which was unusual since the two of them went in and out together almost all the time. When she'd asked her father, he'd told her that something had come up, Ernest had had to leave the country on urgent business related to the project, which was likely to be an indefinite trip, the brass supervising it had ordered a lock on the flow of information about it, cutting out anyone who hadn't been both officially cleared and officially brought in, and she'd been given a vague non-disclosure agreement to sign that said she was not to speak to anyone about what she'd seen or done with the project, which meant she was effectively out. That had irked her sorely, since the project had only managed to advance further because she had made the suggestion about using different electrical current, on top of her other contributions.

What had really enraged her, to the point where she had nearly broken her hand on the kitchen table form hitting it so hard, had been the fact that, according to Paul, due to the secrecy involved, Ernest was effectively under a communications blackout. Catherine couldn't remember the last time she hadn't gone more than a day without seeing Ernest, or more than a few hours without talking to him. She hated being alone, and alone she was; whatever was brewing with the ring had her father out of the house for sometimes days at a time. When she'd confronted her father about the situation three days ago, when she finally broke down over her anger and grief about having effectively been abandoned by Ernest because of the project, he'd only shrugged.

"Catherine, I'm working on doing everything I can to help Ernest get back here, as well as getting you back in, in an official capacity. The way things are, though, it's going to take a long time before I convince the right people that we can use you, that you can meet their requirements for clearance. I want to tell you, I really do. I want you to be a part of this, because it wouldn't be where it is without your help. I want you to be able to hear from Ernest again. I know you love him, and I know it's hard being away from him. He's like a son to me already, Catherine, and I miss him, too. If I can get you back in, I'll be able to tell you everything, and maybe that will help. Honestly, though, we thought he'd be back soon enough. It didn't seem like something that should take this long"

Catherine had fumed and pouted at that, but had let the matter drop. And last night, things had changed. Her father had promised they would have dinner together, and Catherine had gone to meet him at his office outside the lab. When she'd arrived, she'd noticed her father and another man talking. He looked to be about ten years older than Catherine, tall and lean, with close-cropped dark brown hair and eyes. They'd stopped talking before Catherine could get within earshot, and her father had smiled at her. "Catherine, this is Lieutenant Samuel Marcus. Lieutenant Marcus, this is my daughter, Catherine."

Catherine had extended her hand, and Lieutenant Marcus took it, had leaned forward into a bow as he raised it to his lips. "A pleasure, Ms. Langford."

She'd giggled, drawing a disapproving stare from her father. "The pleasure is mine, Lieutenant." she'd said breathily. She didn't know what it was, but there was something enthralling and attractive about the man. "And, please, call me Catherine. Formality has never been my strong suit." she'd added.

"Well, Catherine, you can call me Samuel, then." the man had smiled that dashing smile of his, the one that showed so plainly that he had a charisma about him.

"So, what brings you to this neck of the woods, Samuel?" Catherine asked.

"I've been transferred here, assigned to the project your father's working on in an auxiliary capacity. I'm going to be spending a while familiarizing myself with the project, and once that's done, I'll begin acting as a go-between, collecting relevant information that may help it from the myriad of other projects the government's working on."

Catherine couldn't help the plan that formulated in her mind. If Samuel was on the shortlist of approved personnel, maybe he'd be able to find out what had happened to Ernest. She just had to make him want to help her.

She'd given a coy smile. "Father," she said, taking on her best 'Please, daddy?' voice, "Perhaps Captain Marcus would like to join us for dinner?"

Her father had stared at her. "Catherine, I don't think that's an appropriate…"

"Forgive me, Doctor Langford, Catherine, but I do have other plans. I would like to join you another time, but tonight will not do. I believe, if we are to have a successful work relationship, we should be comfortable on a personal level."

"Agreed. Another time, then. Until then, good day."

With that, they'd parted, and Catherine was anxiously awaiting the chance to begin her plan.

For Paul Langford, it was incredible, to see his life's work take on a whole new dynamic. Never in his wildest dreams had he imagined that the curious stone circle he found in Giza almost twenty years ago would be a portal to the stars, and neither would he imagine that he would suddenly be foisted in charge of a small army of various personnel, between technicians, supply officers, scholars, doctors, engineers, and even soldiers (who were none too pleased to be here rather than fighting overseas). Still, everything had been going relatively swimmingly.

Ernest had managed to find some kind of power switch in the castle he was stuck in and had busied himself with exploring the location. He reported that he found more of the two strange writings on several more walls, and just as they had prepared to send the first group of personnel through, he reported an even more amazing find. Apparently, he had discovered another strange pedestal in the castle. Only this one, instead of copying the pattern of the ring, was some kind of light projector. Ernest still wasn't sure what it was about, but the sheer volume of information that he believed to be present in the device was incredibly tantalizing, so much so that Paul was half-tempted to go through with the first wave to see for himself, but with no definite way home yet, he knew he could ill-afford to go on such an indulgent trip. From the basic description, it almost sound like the projections were atomic representations being used as some kind of code, but Ernest hadn't yet been able to start any kind of translation attempt.

Langford walked slowly up the small ramp that had been installed leading up to the device. Behind him, a group of sixty individuals stood. Volunteers of various backgrounds, who had been vaguely informed about a great discovery that their expertise would be useful to, but also the likelihood that they might never return. There were several scientists, linguists, engineers, technicians, and, perhaps most importantly, a squad of sour-faced soldiers, all wearing a blue patch shaped like an upside-down teardrop with red flames at the bottom and a buzzard superimposed over a parachute with the number 517 in red above the buzzard and the word "Attack" in white on a red banner below. They were members of the 517th Parachute Infantry Regiment, which was under the command of the 13th Airborne. He'd read a bit about them in the profiles he'd been given; apparently, the 517th had been involved in heavy fighting in Italy before participating in their first combat jump in Operation Dragoon before later fighting in the Ardennes Counteroffensive, and, most recently, the 13th Airborne had initially been slated to participate in Operation Varsity, but a lack of transports put the kibosh on that, and now, with Germany on the ropes, it looked like their Division wasn't going to see combat. When the discrete selection process for people to come into the command of the project, they'd received a surprising number of applications from the 13th, though Langford suspected the men were still disappointed they wouldn't be fighting Jerry or Tojo.

Well, it was time to cheer them up. Clearing his lungs with a loud cough, the small whispers from below the platform ceased, and all eyes were on him.

"Good afternoon." he began, "I appreciate all of you coming on such short notice, and with the utmost discretion. I understand some of you were deep within military projects, or," he said, gesturing to the Airborne men, "awaiting deployment when you received this group's offer. I understand that it was vague and you must have many questions, and now that all those forms you filled out earlier have been filed, I can finally tell you all what's going on and why you're here., and rest assured, it is quite important." He gestured toward the device with a hand. "This … well, how can I say it? This may be the most important discovery ever made by the United Sta… no, by humanity. This ring was discovered by my team and I in Egypt nearly two decades ago, but we could never quite figure out what it was until roughly a month ago, when we activated it. It turns out that this stone circle … is actually an ancient alien artifact."

This elicited some responses, the scientists murmuring among themselves and the soldiers standing up straighter. He did hear a few snickers and chuckles from the crowd as well

"I'm dead serious." he said, his voice not betraying the excitement he felt inside. "One month ago, my son-in-law-to-be, Doctor Ernest Littlefield, went through the device, which we call the Stargate, and ended up on an alien planet. He's discovered several new pieces of technology and other things that humankind has never discovered before. Unfortunately, we haven't been able to facilitate his return, and that's why we asked for people willing to make a one-way trip. While we're confident that we will eventually figure out how to get him and whoever joins him home, we … cannot make it a guarantee. There is a chance that, when you step through the portal that forms when this device activates, you may never be able to return to Earth, never see the people you know and love again. I understand this is a heavy task to ask of anyone, but we need more firsthand information and expertise on site, and that can only be accomplished by going through.

"However, since we couldn't possibly explain this in writing when we made the offer, due to the understandable risk of causing panic, we're offering you all one last chance to back out of the front-line duty on this project. You'll still be attached to this program, but will remain Earthside, still subject to the confidentiality agreements you signed. Earthside, he thought. That's going to take some getting used to.

Looking back to the crowd, he spoke once more. "Anyone who wishes to back out is free to do so now."

The crowd began to mill about, the civilians nervously chattering away with each other, many reluctant to leave their lives behind, potentially forever. The soldiers were split, some looking at each other with wide-eyed grins about the possibility of going to other planets hundreds, if not possibly thousands of light-years away from Earth, apparently fans of pulp science fiction magazines, but some of the other, older soldiers shared the reluctance of the civilians. A few people even began to move toward the door.

That was when the 2nd Lieutenant for the squad, an older, recently commissioned officer, walked forward and spoke up, quieting the crowd around him.

"Why do you need us?" he asked. "This seems like something for the civvies. Why take a squad from the front lines for this? It seems kind of wasteful." His tone was serious, but Paul could detect a small, biting undercurrent, as though the officer knew there was more to the situation than what Paul had said.

"Because, while I believe this device makes it clear that we are not alone in the universe, what I haven't made clear is that there is apparently hostile alien life out there."

There was nothing for several seconds, until a private spoke up, his voice cracking into a hoarse tone. "What?"

"We've actually dialed, that is to say, we've actually made a viable, travel-friendly connection with, two planets. The first one, of course, is the planet Dr. Littlefield is on, and the second is a planet he discovered, using a pedestal that appears to be the original control mechanism for the Stargate to make a connection. We sent a small cart with a camera and video transmitter through, and discovered an armored alien entity that stood at almost seven feet tall, including the giant, eagle-shaped helmet it wore. It carried a staff that fired some kind of energy blast, which it used to destroy the cart. The reason we need soldiers is because we're not sure how numerous those things are, and we need to protect the site if they are hostile, or if there are other hostiles out there. That's the main reason we're pushing for this exploration: if those things exist in large numbers on more planets, with the apparent level of technology they have, they are more than likely capable of wiping us out, should they desire it. We could bury the gate like the ancient Egyptians apparently did, stop them from using it to invade, but what if they have ships? What if they can cross the void between the stars easily? There are too many unknowns; we have no choice but to explore and find more technology and tools that we can use to defend the Earth and our homes in the event we find ourselves in a real life War Of The Worlds."

The room was silent for several more seconds, some of the crowd looked at Paul with shock in their eyes, some looked down, and a few even crossed themselves and muttered small prayers. The lieutenant just stood still for several more seconds before he spoke again. "So, you need some help keeping the good ol' USA safe from some spacemen? I think the 517th can help you out with that. Am I right, men?" he shouted to the soldiers behind him, who gave him a loud cheer. Turning to face his men, he shouted, "I'm sorry, I can't hear you, soldiers! Is the Airborne going to let some trigger-happy space freaks land their tin cans on Roosevelt's front lawn?! Are we going to let their ugly asses march through that ring?!"

"Sir, no, sir!" the soldiers yelled in unison.

Turning back to Langford, the lieutenant gave him a crisp nod. "Alpha Squad is ready to depart, sir." The soldiers took several steps forward and milled closely around the bottom of the gate's ramp. The civilians took more time, still discussing it among themselves, but one by one, they too slowly gravitated toward the ramp. Not one person backed away.

Paul smiled; he nodded to the technicians, who began to rotate the gate. As the soldiers and civilians began to gather their belongings and move the crates into their final positions, Paul took several steps toward the sergeant and lowered his voice.

"Thank you." he said. "I'm not much good at inspiring confidence; I'm glad you're on board with this."

"Doctor Langford," the lieutenant said, "I've got a wife and a little boy back home. I'd rather not be stranded on an alien dust ball if at all possible." he said, the faint drawl becoming more evident with his lowered voice. Definitely Texas, Paul thought. "But, if this makes sure…" the lieutenant gestured with his hand, "that whatever is out there doesn't come here, I'm more than willing to go through that gate and so are my boys. We won't disappoint."

"Well, I'm glad to hear that, Lieutenant…" Paul said, extending his hand. "I apologize; I'm still getting familiar with names."

Clasping Paul's hand, the lieutenant gave three sharp pumps before dropping his arm. "Hammond." he said. "Don Hammond."

As the last chevron locked into place, the gate sprung to life, and the wave of energy shot out, startling some of the people present. Fortunately, the cordon set up in front of it had kept everyone out of the danger zone.

"Three things to remember with gate travel!" Paul called over the din. "One: DO. NOT. STAND. In front of that wave; it destroys everything in its path. Two: The gate is one-way only, from origin planet to destination planet. If you try coming back without dialing from your location, you never come out. Finally, keep moving after you emerge; we don't want a traffic jam that could push people back in; we're not eager to find out anything more than the aforementioned never returning thing about what happens in that case. We've packed enough supplies to keep you all self-sufficient for a couple of months, but we'll stay in regular contact and send the odd package through when needed. Good luck, and godspeed!"

Stepping to the side, he watched as Lieutenant Hammond slung his Thompson over his shoulder and picked up two large cases. The lieutenant stepped up the ramp, stopping just in front of the event horizon. The soldiers behind him wheeled up several crates and held position on the ramp. Taking one last look behind him, Don Hammond stepped through the portal. Soon, the soldiers and civilians all began to follow, and one by one each disappeared beyond the portal and soon the ramp was empty.

"Everyone's through." Ernest's voice said over the radio.

Standing on the ramp until long after the gate shut off, Paul stared at the ring. Everything had moved so fast, and yet it was still going to keep picking up pace. They had been slightly behind schedule bringing the soldiers in, but Paul believed that they would be well worth the extra time. "April 1st, 1945." he mused aloud. "The day we established a base on another planet."

Even though the world didn't know it just yet, humanity had just taken its first great leap into a new era.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

The next few days were a blur for Ernest as the new personnel who came through began to set up camp. After the initial large group, a few more smaller groups came through, mostly a couple more squads bringing more gear to establish a more secure foothold and ensure the gate room's safety. Lieutenant Hammond made sure to keep all of the soldiers in line, but for the most part, he left the civilians alone, which both relieved and frustrated Ernest to no end. Relieved because he didn't have to butt heads with the military, but frustrated because he was still technically "in-charge" of everything, and he still had very little idea of how to lead a small but growing encampment and expedition in a massive alien structure on a foreign planet. At least the soldiers followed Hammond, but the civilians, the various scientists, technicians, linguists, and other who came through all looked to him for leadership.

Some of it was easy. He deferred to the engineers and technicians in regards to surveying the castle and construction. It was still remarkably stable despite the strong weathering of the stones in the castle. Still, he wanted to take no chances and ordered most of the structural engineers to go over the location and make sure everything would be all right for the short term and reinforce anything that might need reinforcing. The technicians were assigned to start setting up various pieces of equipment for the humans to use. The alien control panels and interfaces were still confusing and no one wanted to chance pressing something until everyone had a firm grasp of what the hell they were saying.

The linguists had been having some difficulty with the location, not helped by the fact that there were two main types of alien writing. The older text on the walls, control panels, and interfaces seemed to be some kind of Latin form, but with its own unique flavors and styles, particularly the substitution cipher that they'd mistaken at first for a wholly alien script, that made it difficult to work off of other known forms of the language as a baseline. The newer text was similarly derived from an Egyptian root, but, once again, had distinct dialectical variations that made it quite distinct from ancient Egyptian on Earth. Still, it seemed like they might be nearing a breakthrough soon, at least with some of the base hieroglyphs of the newer language. He was hoping for something he could give back to the professor in a future report.

Currently, he was pinning his hopes on the strange device he had found further back in the base. He'd noticed that, as he went further and further from the gate room, the newer writing quickly disappeared, and the older one remained. In the room with the light projector device, they'd encountered an additional three languages, all far more alien in origin and completely indecipherable at this point, in addition to the Latin-like one. When he had first activated the device, the symbols that appeared in the air confused him. Quickly, however, he'd realized that each dot of light was actually an atom; the single proton-electron pair of hydrogen had given him the clue. But there were far more elements here than Earth had known about. It had to be some kind of constructed language, using one of the most basic concepts of physics and chemistry, something that any advanced race would have knowledge of. If they could find something that helped make it clear what each element was associated with in terms of this form of communication, maybe they could crack it. If they could figure it out, or just figure out what else lay in the device, then who knew what the team could discover.

Another issue, however, had come up when they realized that the planet didn't have the same rotational period as Earth; their estimates put its day at 26 hours. They would have to work out clocks specifically for the planet if they intended their operation to have any long-term synchronicity with the planet's timetables.

As Ernest stood around tapping his notepad with his pen, he looked up to see the progress the military teams were making. Most were moving about silently, doing their best to fortify the gate room. Hammond was supervising the men installing a couple of thirty cals to a fallen beam. Other soldiers were pulling pre-filled sandbags from one of the wheeled crates and setting up nests and cover to hide behind. All Ernest knew was that it had been incredibly difficult to pull several large crates that weighed so much through the gate. They'd set up the middle room in between the sleeping quarters, hologram room, and gate room as an armory to store all the weapons. The lieutenant (with Ernest's permission, of course) had started training some of the civilians in handgun usage, using the large window openings as a backdrop and some empty C-ration cans as targets. With unknown potential aliens out there, at least one known likely hostile force, and no reliable way to physically return to Earth yet, it seemed like a logical thing to do. Ernest himself was rapidly getting familiar with the M1911, though a few service revolvers were also in the arsenal and favored by some of the personnel. A couple of technicians were even training with some of the spare Garands that were brought through. The fact that they received semi-regular supply shipments from Earth meant that they could afford to expend some of the spare ammunition to train.

As he continued to watch the soldiers set up the fortifications near the gate room, Sergeant Hammond walked over and rested his back against the pillar next to Ernest. He pulled out a small piece of paper and handed it to Ernest. "Dr. Littlefield, we've finished up the inventory of what we have out there," he gestured to the gate room fortifications, "and what we have in the gate room as surplus."

"Excellent!" Ernest said, flipping over to a blank page in his notebook; he preferred to have everything written down, and preferably multiple copies. "What have we got?"

"Well, it's a mix of good news and bad news. Good news is that we won't be hurting for ammo, even with all the extra training. We've got plenty of boxes and spare cartridges, as well as plenty of spare belts for the MGs. In addition, in the event of an attack, we have enough small arms to make sure everyone in the base will have at least one weapon. The room above makes for natural high ground, so we've stuck a couple of MGs up there, and we have two men patrolling with B.A.R.s as well. If anything comes through, the upper floor can rain down death. Then you have our lower fortifications. We have interlocking sections of sandbags, using some of the fallen beams as a supplement. We've fastened another set of MGs down here to help."

"What's the bad news?"

"Well, it's kind of a quantity and quality problem. Specifically, the quality of some weapons and our lack of some other pieces of gear." Hammond said, flipping over his paper. "We only have the four MGs, and we've already fastened them down, but truth be told, we could probably do with a couple more, even set up a few additional safe points in this castle if we want. In addition, we have no heavy explosives, no bazookas, only a handful of grenades, and just the two B.A.R.s. We also have no shotguns, and, given that this is a castle, they're something we're probably going to want if we are truly going to make this castle as defensible as possible. Plus, shotguns are something else that the civilians can use; they're easier to use and train with, and you don't really need to be that accurate. In terms of quality … Well, the MGs we're using are Model 1917's, and while they're fine, I'd prefer the 1919's. They use the same caliber, but the latter has a better cooling rate. They're both light machine guns, and I'd like us to have one or two M2's if possible; short of a tank, nothing can withstand a fifty-caliber bullet.

"In terms of our fortifications… well, we're doing our best, but, to be totally honest, Doctor, for a castle, this place is remarkably open. The gate room itself is fairly contained, and that can work against us as well since it's reasonably close from the gate to the sandbags. If a group had a really dedicated charge, or if they could more something well-armored through first, then a lot of our effectiveness might be reduced. If they can overwhelm the sandbags, it's a straight shot to the stairs. This is all assuming conventional, human tactics as well; if we're dealing with aliens, who knows what sort of contraptions they might have and what kind of tactics their technologies favor."

As Ernest finished scribbling down the sergeant's words, he surveyed the room. Hammond was right; the sandbags were only a few yards from the gate. While concentrated fire would certainly be deadly, he could see the sergeant's viewpoint, that some kind of protection moving ahead of the invaders could negate a lot of the combat effectiveness of the machine guns. Tapping his pen to the notepad, he looked over at the sergeant.

"I'll definitely see about most of these, the shotguns, B.A.R.s, and machine guns. Professor Langford mentioned that Roosevelt approved more funding and requisition for us, with the European theater of operations winding down, some supplies can afford to be diverted, so we should get at least some of that. The explosives, I'm not sure about. We're still not entirely sure how stable this castle is and we're not quite willing to risk having stuff that could bring it down on top of us, but, again, it's alien engineering and construction, so if we can figure out that this thing isn't going to collapse if we set off an explosion or two, we might be able to get more decent explosives." Ernest said.

Hammond nodded as he stood straight up and began to walk back toward his men. "I appreciate that, Dr. Littlefield. Thank you for hearing me out." he said.

As Ernest began to write in his notepad once more, one of the linguists assigned to the team came running up the stairs. Running toward the gate, he leaped over a half-complete sandbag foxhole to the annoyance of the soldiers he'd jumped over and ran to the gate. Wheeling around, he looked up at one of the horizontal beams still attached to the ceiling and began to furiously write in his notepad.

Curious, Ernest walked over to him, reaching the linguist just as he finished writing. Racking his brains, Ernest tried to remember the man's name. It started with an S.

"Dr. Littlefield!" he said, looking over at Ernest and breaking the expedition leader's concentration. "I was going over the hieroglyphs in the hallway leading to the light room when I noticed a pattern. Now, these patterns are very similar to an ancient dialect that was written near Giza and Saqqara, though some records of it also exist in archives pulled from ruins in Memphis. Now, by backtracking and ascribing some of the hieroglyphs that had the same meaning on Earth, I made a rough outline of a translator for the Egyptian here. It's not perfect, and there might be some gaps, especially with some of the more complicated sentences and sentence structures, which is why I came here, where the big and simple sentence was written above the gate an…" the linguist took a pause to remember to inhale at last. Ernest looked up at the hieroglyphs on the beam, he hadn't noticed them before.

"Huh. Didn't see those when I came through, though my helmet might have blocked some of that." he thought aloud.

"Are you kidding? Those were the first things I saw!" the linguist said, thrusting his notepad into Ernest's hands. "That's the translation I've worked out; took a few tries to get it right, though, but I'm sure this is it."

"Thanks …er." Ernest said, looking at the notes.

"Stevens, Robert Stevens!" the linguist said, not looking away from the hieroglyphs.

Looking down, Ernest saw the note, complete with scribbles and struck-through sentences:

The Glorious Summer Palace of Ra! Dominion of Land

Center of Worship, Temple of Ra!

Heliopolis, Land of Ra

Temple of Ra, Heliopolis

Prize of Ra, Heliopolis Tem

Until the final, circled sentence caught his eye:

THE GRAND TEMPLE OF HELIOPOLIS, PRIZE OF THE SUPREME LORD RA

The Castle finally had a name …


End file.
